


(Many Things Can Change) But We Know Some Things Never Will

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Hanukkah, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:43:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s been going crazy ever since, waiting what seems like endless hours to be home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Many Things Can Change) But We Know Some Things Never Will

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, first M-fic for this pairing. That usually scares me as it is, but then add the concept for this one and, really, I just don't know. I'm blaming S, G, and H for encouraging me to stop interrupting them already. Many thanks to the aforementioned trio for helping me brainstorm and letting me throw things at them whenever I need. 
> 
> Title taken from Amy Grant's _A Christmas to Remember_.

“What’s...” She sucks in a breath, tries to force the key into the door for a third time as he nips at her throat, hands toying with the zipper of her skirt. “Gotten into you?”

“Mmmm?” It’s a hum against her skin that sends her already rapid heartbeat flying and... Really, they just need to get into their damn condo already because Mrs. Finkelstein down the hall is about to get a _really_ good show if they don’t.

Finally the lock turns and she pushes into their place, eyebrow arching as he steps around her, roughly bunching her skirt, teeth scraping over her collarbone. “Just how many of those girly drinks did you have?”

His head flies up, eyes narrowing, jaw tense. “A candy cane martini is _not_ a girly drink. And even if it was, it’s your friend’s fault for making it the signature cocktail of her ugly sweater party.”

“I’ll make sure she has at least one red wine next... oh...”

It’s a soft gasp as he pulls at the bottom of her sweater, smiles against the column of her throat.

She’s been driving him crazy all night. The damn sweater slipping off her shoulder, lengthening the line of her neck, exposing her _ohsosoft_ skin so often that he was sure she’d been about to staple it to her bra strap at one point.

Then Charlene—Carmen? Carrie? Whoever—had cornered them under the mistletoe and...

Well, he’s been going crazy ever since, waiting what seems like endless hours to be home.

To have her all to himself.

He gives the hem of the sweater another tug, laughing roughly as the seam actually tears, threads basically unraveling in his hands.

“Oliver!” She presses her lips together, lust warring with surprise as he continues to pull at the shirt, handily destroying it.

“Yes?” He starts guiding them towards the living room, one hand splaying over the small of her back, the other finally unzipping her skirt, pushing it down over her hips.

“That... was brand... new...” Exhaling slowly, she bites down on her lip as warm air meets her freshly exposed shoulder and then presses forward, her purse crashing to the floor as her fingers twist in the back of his sweater.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s a terrible sweater and you’re Jewish anyway.”

Any protest that she could have reused it next year dies as he falls to the couch, pulling her on top of him. “It did sort of itch...”

“I told you to get the cashmere.”

“That reindeer was ridiculous.”

“And evil Frosty wasn’t?” He finally tugs the rest of the offending article away, his hands smoothing up her sides as she leans forward and flicks open his fly, her knuckles grazing over his erection as she does and she grins as he hisses out a harsh _fuck_ against her shoulder.

Flattening his palms against the couch, he pushes up, struggling for a moment before frantically pushing his pants and boxers off, her laugh low in his ear as her hands slip under his shirt, skimming across his back.

His mouth covers hers roughly then, all teeth and tongue and _moremoremore_ as he peels her bra off, tossing it over his shoulder while he flips them. She gasps against him, nails dragging over the nape of his neck as her teeth tug at his bottom lip and her leg kicks out, knocking the Star of David into the little table top tree she’d insisted on.

“You know...” She arches against him, warmth blossoming high on her cheeks as he rids her of her lone article of clothing and hitches her leg over his hip. “We do have a perfectly comfortable bed... two, if you count the guest—”

The rest of the thought is lost as he slides home, his thumb stroking across her jaw as he brushes his lips over hers. “Way too far... you’ve... nuts all night...” Rocking forward, he grins as her fingers twist in his hair, legs tighten around him. “Don’t worry though, going to use it for more unwrapping later.”

“I don’t know if it’s unwrapping if you’re just unlooping the tie on my robe.”

He groans, eyes slamming shut as her heel presses into his back, urging him closer and it’s all he needs. Leaning forward, he braces himself on one arm and thrusts into her more fully, her breath coming in little pants against his neck, driving him higher and higher.

“Shit, yes... Oliver....” Moaning, she hooks her leg higher on his hip, heat skittering down her spine as his pace increases, his free hand cupping her breast, thumb circling her nipple as returns over and over and over.

Dipping his head, he kisses her hungrily once again, tongue stroking over hers in time with his thrusts and it’s too much. The heat overwhelms her, her breath hitching as her fingers fight for purchase against his hideous sweater and her orgasm crashes over her.

He returns to her once, twice, more before he follows, her name a harsh grunt against her skin as the pleasure rocks him.

“That...” His forehead falls to hers, the corner of his mouth lifting at the sheer pleasure written all over her face, the way her hands continue to skim over him.

“I guess I should just call Connie and RSVP for next year’s party now.”

“Don’t forget to mention the wine.” He can’t help but laugh at the teasing roll of her eyes, the soft sigh as he leaves her and settles on the end of the couch.

“Noted. I wouldn’t get so comfortable though.”

“No?” He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from hauling her across the small distance between them when she stands, shaking her head at the overturned tree.

“No. Come on...” She pulls him to his feet and starts pushing him towards their bathroom, her hand settling low on his hip. “Let’s get you out of this. It’s burning my retinas and I’m sorta freaked out that Santa saw me naked...”


End file.
